


Letters from Verona

by dreamersshouldknowbetter



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamersshouldknowbetter/pseuds/dreamersshouldknowbetter
Summary: Betty and Jughead are working late one night at the Blue & Gold when Betty stumbles across something special on Jughead's laptop





	Letters from Verona

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to set the time of this fic back a bit - this fic takes place right before Jughead walks Betty home in Chapter 7: The Lonely Place

It had been a long week for Betty Cooper. Polly’s disappearance had placed an unbearable weight on her heart and mind, and her mother’s media storm had done nothing to help her heightened state. Out of options and helpless to improve the situation, Betty had chosen to focus on the tasks that needed finishing. Tonight, that meant editing and revising the newest edition of the Blue & Gold. She dove into her articles until late in the night, until the vast majority of the building had emptied out and the sun had long disappeared.

“Juggie? Hey Jug? You awake?” Betty peered over at the boy, trying to determine just how soundly he was sleeping. He had dozed off on the couch while waiting for Betty to finish her work. She urged him to go home hours ago, but he refused to leave until she did, insisting that it was his duty to walk her home.

He looked so handsome laying there, curled up with an old copy of “1984″ lying open on his chest, crown beanie slightly askew. Betty couldn’t help but smile at the stillness of his body, feeling herself calm as she watched his chest rise and fall. When he was sleeping, the troubles that haunted him in his waking hours were imperceptible. He seemed so peaceful, so unhindered by all the worries of the world.

Deciding that he wasn’t going to stir anytime soon, she crossed the room and ever so delicately plucked his laptop from his desk, being careful not to make too much noise.

She pried open the laptop, its screen illuminating the darkened room. Typing in the password she had managed to decipher weeks ago, Betty searched for the familiar Word document labeled “No Title”. 

“You can’t name a novel before it’s finished,” Jughead had told her weeks ago, “The story has to be completed before it can speak to you.”

Betty smiled at the memory, recalling the conviction with which he had spoken. She loved the way he spoke about his novel, how his brow would furl when he was fighting writer’s block, or the light that sparked in his eye when he thought of the perfect turn of phrase. But he never let her read his work, so she had taken to reading it in secret, bit by bit, whenever she could. 

Browsing the list of documents, something caught Betty’s eye. A folder entitled, “Letters from Verona” had appeared under the list of recent files, one Betty had never noticed before. Curiosity got the best of her, and she opened it, selecting the most recent document.

\---

Dear Juliet,

I am captivated by your eyes. I always have been. Those bewitching green eyes have always seen the world with such wonder, have always contained such beauty. They have always shined, a beacon of light in the darkest of times.

I cannot help but recall that moment, right before I kissed you, when I looked in your eyes. It was in your eyes that I found the courage to move forward, to bring my lips up against yours, to open myself up and let years of bottled affection pour out.

From that moment on, your eyes have been different. For years, I have looked into those eyes, and for years they have looked back. But only now do those alluring eyes begin to see. Only now does a part of you, however small, begin to feel the things I have been feeling for so long.

Now your eyes see me with wonder. They regard me with a tender affection, every glance full of care and devotion. To be the recipient of such a look is all I have desired for so long, and yet I am fearful. Fearful that, every time you peer into my eyes, you will see my soul. Fearful that you will know my truths. Fearful that such raw exposure will cause the warmth of those dazzling eyes to irreversibly cool.

This is my confession to you, tucked away in a file that I do not yet have the courage to share. A small piece of my heart that is reserved for another time. One day, I will find the strength to say these words to you out loud, to look you in those entrancing eyes and make a true proclamation. For now, I will simply continue to gaze into your eyes, hoping with each passing glance to convey all I am incapable of saying.

xx Romeo

\---

Betty stared at the letter, reading and rereading each sentence, in awe of the confession. Unable to stop herself, she opened another document, and then another, and another. Letters of longing, confessions of unrequited pining, it all unfolded in before her, giving way to an overwhelming, unabashed affection.

She didn’t even notice she was crying until the letters on the screen began to swim. Her heart ached, the excess of emotion threatening to burst from her chest. It wasn’t that Jughead hadn’t expressed his feelings before - the passion with which he had kissed her in her bedroom was unquestionable - but these words were filled with a care and tenderness that was overwhelming.

He had written about her. He had written to her. All of her doubts about his intentions, all of her insecurities about their relationship, they had all disappeared under the persuasion of his confessions.

Wiping her eyes, Betty exited out of the documents and slowly closed the laptop shut, quietly returning it to his desk. She walked over to the sleeping boy on the couch, standing over him for a moment and taking him in. Smiling, she leaned down to wake him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He stirred, looking around with confusion before settling his eyes on her and smiling. The way in which his eyes connected to hers filled her whole body with warmth, the simple glance taking on a newer, deeper significance. In that moment, Betty knew she could spend forever looking into those eyes.

“Hey Bets,” he said softly, propping himself up on his elbows, “Is it time to go home?”

“Yeah Jug,” Betty smiled, “It’s time to go home.”


End file.
